


Shapely

by Davechicken



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Image, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23027179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Aziraphale isn't sure he's the right shape.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 130





	Shapely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lisalicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisalicious/gifts).



> Please avoid this if you have concerns over body image or food consumption, and you think it could negatively impact you.

“Crowley?”

“Mmm?”

“Do - do you think I’m setting a bad example?”

The demon looked up from his phone, eyes blinking to adjust to the new direction in conversation. Sometimes he would instantly know what Aziraphale meant (more often than was probably the norm), and other times it would take him a moment to focus.

He did look rather adorable when confused. That little crease between his brows. The way his head pulled back on his shoulders.

“In general, or in some specific way?”

“Well, both, but…” He pushed the dainty fork on the side plate, watching the crumbs of the latest former slice of cake squish accordingly into porcelain. 

“But?”

“I mean, I know it doesn’t cause me any issues, but with all this talk of… long-term health reprisals, and the global food concerns…”

Crowley’s phone went down. He’d been playing a game, and the paused screen was oddly raucous in colour and movement. 

“Is this you saying you’re worried you’re eating the wrong things?”

“Not so much wrong, as… well… perhaps the amount?”

“Huh.”

“I’m… I’m not exactly going to inspire health in people, am I?”

Crowley’s fingers drummed on the table. “You are worried, if I can check my understanding, about appearing… well-fed?”

“I’m positively rotund! Isn’t - aren’t you - don’t you think--”

“Angel. Relax. Some Humans are naturally more prone to your shape than others. And you’re not down here to run any weight loss regime for the greater good.”

“No, but--”

“You aren’t going to convincingly win any races, except to the buffet,” Crowley agreed. “But you don’t bloody well need to. Look… don’t you remember what you used to say to me?”

Aziraphale could have pointed out that he’d said a great many things, and recounting them all would take too long, but he shook his head instead.

“When everyone was all about the well-fed curves, proving you didn’t have malnutrition? All those thick thighs and bellies, and looking like you could push out several kids without noticing?”

“...well, I said… I said I liked you perfectly as you were.”

“Right. So why, when you’re not the ‘standard’ for the current climate, should it be any different?”

Hmm. Maybe. He sucked his lips in as hard as he could, and tried to imagine if he’d feel happier if he changed his body as often as the world changed ideals. 

Some of them weren’t even attainable. Legs you couldn’t walk on, or muscles in places muscles didn’t naturally show. And it wasn’t really, if he was honest, about whether he was going to sway some Humans a bit too close to the KitKats and away from the kale.

It was… it was…

Crowley reached over, offering his hand. The angel put the fork down, and let his own be grasped.

“You are much, much more than what notch of your belt you take. And if you want to go down a few, I’ll still feel the same way about you. If you went up a few, there’s just more to hold onto. Only… don’t do it because you think I need it, or because of what some moron with nothing better to do than make others feel miserable happens to say. Do it because it makes you happy. Even if it did affect your health, you can’t sacrifice your peace of mind for a few inches here and there.”

Aziraphale felt it, like a punch to his (prone to slight wobbles) gut. “Oh.”

“If you want me to bring you less cake, just say. But… for you, not for me, or anyone else.”

“You like me looking like I could push out children and not notice?” he asked, with a shy, happy smile.

“I like _you_.”

“I see.”

“Maybe you don’t,” Crowley answered, and lifted his hand, gentlemanly, to his lips. “Guess I need to show it better.”

It helped. It did. The comments the demon managed to force out, past the fear that tried to silence his lips. The look in his eyes which he’d never once managed to hide. The hands that enveloped him, caressed him, and made him feel precious.

“Thank you,” he murmured, meaning it more deeply than tone alone could convey. 

He would think tomorrow if he needed to change or not. If he did, it wouldn’t be permanent, anyway. He could always change back. But if he did, he wanted it to be the real thing, not a whim of miracle and done with. Otherwise, it didn’t mean as much.


End file.
